


Gangster Girl

by pricefield101



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gang AU, Gang Violence, NSFW, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricefield101/pseuds/pricefield101
Summary: Max Caulfield is just a girl who attends an ordinary school full of ordinary people, or at least that's what she thinks. Going into this school, Max doesn't realize that a lot of the people who go there are members of street gangs; rival street gangs.
School rules prevent the gangs from fighting on school campus or during school hours, but that doesn't stop them from brawling in the streets (and in the sheets). When Max is caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with a camera in her hand, she is accused of many things that aren't true. Max is confronted by one of the gang's leaders and she's given an choice. Either hand over the picture she took, or suffer the consequences.
With the picture being not so harmful to one gang, but extremely harmful to the other, one gang scoops her up and protects her from the sticky situation while the other hunts her and her photo down, and will stop at nothing to get it.
With a tough situation and decisions ahead, Max has never been more thankful to have time powers right by her side.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T own any characters or script from Life Is Strange. All rights go to DONTNOD, Square-Enix, and anyone else associated with the creation of Life Is Strange.





	

I'm suddenly awoken by what I thought was the sound of roaring wind, pouring rain, and a loud crack of lightning. I'm sure a person or two in my photography class noticed me suddenly jolt awake; I see people quickly look away from me as I scan the room. I don't remember exactly when I fell asleep or what I was dreaming about, but it was something weird, and apparently real enough to force me awake.

I'm all spaced out and not paying attention, but I think Jefferson is going on about Alfred Hitchcock and one of his movies or something. I get sudden anxiety about being called on to answer a question when I realize I hadn't been paying attention to a thing Jefferson has been saying. As I scan the room, I silently hope that I don't have to speak for the rest of the class.

I've come to the conclusion that it was definitely just a dream. Nobody else seemed to be startled by the lightning, wind, or heavy rain. I take a deep breath. Okay, I'm in class.... everything's cool. I'm okay.

I take a moment to collect my thoughts about the bizarro dream I just had. Or was it a dream? It felt way too real to be a dream, but then again, what else could've it been? There certainly isn't a tornado storm going on right now.

I remember a storm; a really bad storm ripping through Arcadia Bay. There was a giant twister that came in from the ocean, and the dark, heavy clouds above it swirled into it. The rain poured hard and the wind howled loud.

I remembered walking up a familiar childhood path through the forest to the lighthouse. I used to walk up that path all the time as a child, taking as many pictures as I could with the crappy camera I had at the time. I stumbled up the path, avoiding falling trees and junk that was being thrown about by the tornado.

When I reached the lighthouse, I remembered grabbing a newspaper that was being held flush against a wooden post by the wind. The date read October 7th, which is this Friday. Well Max, you have five days to save the city. Time to get your shit together.

I remember the newspaper being ripped from my hands and being taken away into the swirling wind. I backed up towards the lighthouse, about to go back into the forest when a boat came out of nowhere and slammed into the top part of the lighthouse. I stared at it in horror as the top of the lighthouse crumbled over and fell towards me. And that's when the lightning woke me up. Or was it the crashing of the lighthouse on top of me? I shudder at the thought.

I zone back in to what seems to be Kate being hassled with another note. One of Victoria's friends throws a crumpled up ball of paper at Kate, and it hits her square in the face. Poor girl, I wish I could do something to help her.

I came to the conclusion that I definitely didn't fall asleep, and that it didn't feel like a dream. But I don't know what else could've possibly happened. Something strange is definitely going on.

I zone back into the class conversation to Victoria going on to Jefferson about Diane Arbus and the way she saw humanity as tortured and I guess expressed it with her photography? I don't know, I haven't paid attention at all this class.

I sift through my belongings sprawled out on my desk space in front of me. I go through my journal and pencil case to make sure that everything is still exactly where I left it before, I guess just sort of as a reality check. To make sure I'm not dreaming or whatever anymore. I zone back into the conversation when Jefferson says something that strikes me as odd.

"Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?" He says in a rather hushed, innocent tone.

I don't think much of it. It can't mean anything. He's simply a teacher, nothing more.

I look back at my belongings just to be reminded of a photo contest I'm being forced to participate in. The Everyday Heroes Contest. I pick up my picture, a little disappointed in it. Look at this crap! How can I show this to Mr. Jefferson? I can hear the class laughing at me now.

Suddenly, I feel dizzy and weak for a brief moment. I can feel myself being sucked back into the storm, but before I can be fully brought back into the dream, another loud crack of lightning jolts me awake. At the sound of it, I jump back in my chair, accidentally knocking my analogue Polaroid camera off my desk. I instinctively reach out to try and catch it, but instead of catching it, my mind is once again filled with overwhelming emotion; this time pain. I watch in horror as my camera 'falls upwards', and lands safely back onto the desk without me even touching it.

Everything went backwards for a second. My camera, Jefferson's speaking, any and all movement. And when the sensation stops, everything moves forward like normal and I hear Jefferson repeat the same words he said not a minute before. What the fuck did I just do?

Did I just reverse time? Or am I completely losing my marbles? I held out my hand to try and catch my camera, but instead I wound up reversing time completely? I've already heard this part of Jefferson's lecture, and I've already heard Victoria's kissing ass. Max, don't freak out. Not yet.

The bell conveniently rings when Jefferson's lecture comes to a smooth close. I pack all my stuff back into my small photography bag and I leave the classroom as fast as I could, just to avoid Jefferson pulling me aside to talk about The Everyday Heroes Contest. My anxiety is at an all time peak right now, with the time shit that just happened and everything. I need a serious time out in the washroom.

When I step out of the classroom, I'm greeted by hoards of people wearing some article of clothing with one of two colours on it; either red or blue. One thing I didn't know coming into Blackwell Academy is that nearly every kid who goes here is a member of one of two street gangs which just so happen to be rival gangs. One gang in blue, one gang in red. And they were always fighting; even now I can hear insults and chirps being shouted across the hallway.

Sometimes I get stuff shouted at me because I'm 'the new kid' and not part of a gang. I don't plan to be, they honestly seem like nothing but trouble to me considering they fuck around with drugs, guns, and probably each other.

I plug in my music and lose myself in that rather than having to deal with slurs being spat here and there.

I sigh and begin to make my way through the crowded, loud hallways and to the washroom. Even through my music, I can hear people yelling at this, yelling at that, yelling at me. Of course they're being louder than they usually are because I have headphones in. They just need to let the new girl know exactly what's going on and exactly what I'm doing 'wrong'.

In the morning, I always have to make note of what I'm wearing. Can't wear blue or red. People will assume I've chosen a side or whatever, and that'll do nothing but get me into more shit. I usually just go with my regular outfit; jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sweater.

I successfully make it to the washroom without being hassled too much. I swing the door open quickly and sigh in relief as I realize the washroom is empty. I close the door behind me and pick a sink to have my little breakdown on.

"This school isn't what I thought it'd be," I begin talking to myself. I guess it's sort of a coping mechanism for me. "I'm yelled at everyday for not being a part of these stupid gangs. What do they even do? Do they have a point? Or is it just stupid drama?"

I shake my head and turn on the tap. I can't make sense of what their motives are. I let my hands run under the warm water to help calm me down. Eventually, I cup my hands under the running water and splash it onto my face. I twist the tap off and pat my face on some paper towel.

"And not to mention these bizarro time powers." I stare at my hands in front of me. Why do I have them? Why me? Where did they come from? How are they possible? I have a sinking feeling that this is gonna be one bizarre fucking week.

I look up towards a small movement elsewhere in the washroom. A beautiful, blue butterfly has flown in through the window. It flutters around in a circle for a couple of seconds before disappearing behind the stalls, where the janitors keep all their bathroom cleaners. Naturally wanting a photo, I follow it. I carefully turn the corner to see it has landed on a metal bucket full of water.

Okay girl, you don't get a photo op like this everyday...

I cautiously pull my analog Polaroid camera out of my bag, not wanting to startle the butterfly. I kneel down in front of it and lift the flash on my camera. The butterfly turns around quickly, causing panic deep within my stomach. The last thing I want to do is ruin a photo op like this. Time powers, Max. Time powers.

Quickly, before the butterfly flies away, I snap the photo. It prints carefully from the front of my camera. I pull it out, and gently shake and blow the ink dry. I put it in a safe spot in my bag, along with all my other photos.

Just as I'm about to round the corner and exit the washroom, the door swings open. I immediately recede back into my little hiding place.

I set my camera on the ground to investigate who came into the washroom. I carefully peek around the corner of the stalls to see a guy with a red jacket on. He has black jeans and a clean 'rich boy' haircut. A boy? In the girls' washroom? What's he doing here?

He looks stressed out. He looks around the bathroom, also listening carefully to see if anyone's in here with him. Luckily, I get back behind the stalls before he can see or hear me.

"It's cool, Nathan... don't stress. You're okay, bro... just count to three..." He leans on the sink. Maybe he's having a panic attack of some sort. Is he okay? Should I step out and help him? "Don't be scared... you own this school. If I wanted, I could blow it up... you're the boss..." He laughs nervously to himself.

I hide back behind the stalls again, not wanting the boy to see me while he breaks down. The last thing I would want is for someone to see me having a breakdown, so why would somebody else want me to see theirs?

A moment later, the door swings open again. I peek around the corner again to see a tall, punk, beautiful, blue-haired girl. She looks angry, like he owes her something. Could these be the gang leaders? Or important people in the gangs? They both look like they mean serious business.

I hide myself behind the stalls again, listening carefully for when they start talking.

"So what do you want?" The boy spits at the girl. She slams the door shut and immediately starts checking the stalls for people. My heart sinks.

"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness." She gets closer to my hiding spot.

"I got nothing for you." The boy says in a dark tone. Thankfully, the girl stops searching for people and turns back to him.

"Wrong. You got hella cash."

"That's my family, not me."

"Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid," She mocks him. "I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here." She leans on the side of the sink he's leaning on and gets all up in his face. I can feel his rage from here. "I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now."

He raises his voice. "Leave them out of this, bitch!"

As a response, she raises her voice right back at him. She starts to shove him around a little bit. "I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself--"

A thought immediately crosses my mind. I could take a picture of this argument and maybe enter it in The Everyday Heroes contest? Because technically, I would be stopping the argument, which would make me the Everyday Hero. It surely would be a lot better than the other crap picture I took of me in my dorm.

I pick my camera back up and turn around the corner very carefully and slowly. As I position myself, the argument gets more heated. I'm surprised the blue haired girl hasn't seen me yet; she's looking right in my direction. I guess she's too focused on the argument, or she just doesn't care.

"You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!" The rich boy yells. And as he yells, he pulls a gun on the girl.

I go into full panic mode when I see the gun, and I snap the picture. This could get the boy seriously busted and save the girl. And to be real, the girl is really cute. So yes, I'll save her. That'll involve me showing this picture to the principal or maybe even the police.

Of course, me being as oblivious as I am, I forgot that my camera makes noise when it takes the photo, and when it prints it. So my camera makes its usual noises, and just like I thought, the conversation between the punk and the rich boy comes to an end. The boy stuffs his gun back into his pants and whips around to face me. The girl stares in my direction as well. I quickly pull the picture out of my camera, give it a wave or two to dry the ink, and stuff it into my pocket.

"What the fuck?" She says. "I thought you checked the entire washroom!"

He ignores her and turns to confront me right away.

"The new kid, huh? Max Caulfield, right?" He stomps over to me like he owns the place. "One of Jefferson's photo groupies?"

"I'm one of his students..." I say sort of defensively. He gets all in my face and gives me multiple pushes to the shoulder, causing me to back up until I'm flush against the washroom's back wall.

"What-the-fuck-ever." He spits into my face. "So you like to take pictures, huh?" He gestures to my camera. "Especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms, right? You best tell me what you saw and hand me that picture. Now." I hesitate to answer at first, I quickly glance at the punk girl and back at him. "Answer me, bitch!" He yells.

"Nothing but a butterfly." I answer strongly. The butterfly flutters on the metal bucket of water, where it was when I took its picture.

"You're full of shit," He says. "I'd respect you more if you told me the truth."

"I don't need your respect." I say back at him. The punk stands quietly behind him, watching him carefully. I guess she's not doing a whole lot about this situation because she doesn't know that the picture favours her greatly. It could get him and his gang busted for pulling a gun on someone. As soon as she sees the photo, I know she'll be on my side.

"You're clueless. You have no idea who I am or what I can do." He spits. The girl steps closer, immediately recognizing the situation and seeing that he could very well pull his gun on me as he just did on her.

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea of who you are..." I say. I didn't recognize him at first, but now that I look at him I realize that he's the son of one of the richest families in Arcadia Bay. Everyone knows who he is.

"Do not analyze me! I pay people for that." He raises his voice. "Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield."

I jump a little bit when he raises his voice, causing the picture to fall out of my pocket. Before I even have a chance to blink, the blue-haired punk girl dives for the picture. She picks it up and stares at it. I can see the realization grow in her eyes as she figures out that this picture could indeed get Nathan busted. The punk glances at me.

"I could call the police." I say, confident that the picture would be enough. The boy keeps his attention on me.

"Do it." He says with slight laughter. "The Prescott's own the pigs here."

The girl steps in. "Get the hell away from her, psycho!"

She gives him a hard shove. He loses his balance, but he doesn't fall. He immediately goes after her now in full out rage. She takes him by the shoulders, knees him right in the crotch and throws him to the ground.

"What are you waiting for?!" She grabs me by the wrist and runs for the door. Her kicking him bought us enough time to get ahead of him, but he's quickly back on his feet and chasing us by the time we've exited the washroom. The Principal is immediately yelling at us to calm down, but we ignore him completely and run out the doors of the school, Nathan following close behind.

As we run across campus, people shoot us multiple looks of confusion and concern. We ignore that as well and as we run across the parking lot, he yells, "Nobody tells me what to do! Not my parents, not the Principal, or you whores!"

To our luck, my friend Warren happened to be standing by his car in the parking lot. He immediately reacted to the situation and sprung to defend me and the punk girl.

"Get away from her, dude!" He yells. He tries to step in front of Nathan, but Nathan ends up pushing him to the ground in his fit of rage. The blue haired girl fumbles for her keys; it's become obvious to me that we're gonna have to make a get away in a car.

As the punk unlocks her truck, Nathan quickly catches up with us. Warren gets up and shakes his head a bit. Nathan grabs me by the neck as the girl swings open her rusty, beat-up truck's door and starts the engine.

"Get off of me!" I yell. "Right now!" I grab his face and dig my nails into his cheek as hard as I possibly can. When I get no reaction from that, I drag my nails quickly down his cheek, leaving a trail of bright pink scratches that will surely become scars in the future. He yelps in pain and shoves me away from him. I almost lose my balance and fall over, but the girl's rumbling truck is right behind me to catch me. Nathan approaches me again, but before he can grab me, Warren runs up behind him and tackles him to the ground. "Warren!"

"Go, go! I got this!" He yells. He takes multiple blows to the face and stomach. The punk girl swings open the passenger seat door for me.

"Get in, Max!" She yells, motioning for me to quickly get in her truck. I loop around the truck quickly and swing myself into the passenger seat. Before I know it, Nathan is back on his feet and he kicks my door shut in rage.

"Get your punk asses out of there now!" He yells. "Don't even try to run! Nobody messes with me! NOBODY!" The girl speeds away. I look behind us to see Nathan waving his fists in the air and throwing a fit, and a security guard rushing to calm the scene. Good thing I'm not there to face him, if I was I might've had to kiss my scholarship goodbye.

We speed away from the school in silence; I guess we're both sort of just making sense of what just happened. Eventually, when we pull off the campus completely, I turn around to make sure nobody has been following us off campus.

"Man, Nathan Prescott is messed up. And dangerous..." I sigh and slump down in my seat. "This day never ends."

The girl stares at me. "'Oh, and thanks, Chloe!'" She sort of mocks my absentmindedness. So her name is Chloe? I scan her face, her hair, her outfit. She wears a navy blue beanie over her short sky blue hair, a white tank top with a skull on it, ripped jeans, old leather combat boots, a worn out leather jacket and some bracelets, one spiked, and to top it all off, a necklace with three bullets. Her pale blue eyes compliment her hair, her sharp but soft features and a bright playful skin tone make her stunningly unique. She's gorgeous.

Not to mention the beautiful late afternoon sun washing in through the branches of the tall pine trees and her truck window. The light kisses her face ever so gently and accompanies her skin tone beautifully. This moment couldn't have been more beautiful.

"So, that's your name? Max?" She glances away from the road to look at me occasionally. "Max what? Didn't catch your last name in Nathan's fit."

"It's Caulfield." I say with a bubbly tone. I give her a light smile when she glances at me.

She gives a small smile back, with a small laugh. "At least someone's glad to see me."

"Anyone who saves me from that kind of situation I'd be glad to see." I say. She gives a small laugh to that, and stares back at the road.

"Yes, it's been that kind of day." She continues to glance at me then back at the road. "So what were you doing in the bathroom anyways?"

"Honestly? I was having a breakdown over a contest for my photography class," I sigh. "I just don't think my photo's good enough. I got a different one though, well, two different ones now. There was a butterfly before you two stormed in, then the picture of you two."

"I wouldn't suggest entering the photo of me and that psychopath," Chloe says. "I mean, for your own safety. No telling what he'd do to you exposing his gang, considering he pulled a gun on me over something as little as some money and weed."

"That's true." I say.

After a small silence, she spoke again. "Your friend really stood up for you."

"Warren? Yeah, I owe him big time."

"You're not the only one in debt," Chloe says, clearly referring to her own situation about the money and weed. "And you're already causing trouble. You just got to Blackwell, didn't you?"

"I thought it would be quiet here." I shoot back. "But when I got here I did feel kinda lonely. It felt out of my league."

"You seem like the kind of person who'd fit right in with the art school hipsters."

"Right," I say. "You're no cover of 'Hipster Girl dot com' yourself." I tease.

"A smartass?" Chloe looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

"That's why I'm here." I say sarcastically, with a smile.

She laughs. "So you came here for Blackwell Academy?"

"Of course. It's one of the best photography programs in the county," I say. "and my favourite teacher, Mark Jefferson."

"So you came here for a teacher?"

"I guess you could say that." I say. Chloe looks a bit jealous of me talking so highly of someone.

"So you, what, just dumped all your art friends back wherever you were to come here?"

I pause for a second. "That's not entirely true."

"Bullshit. You thought you'd hook up with all these art pricks here instead, right? Didn't happen though. You just told me that you feel like don't fit in."

"You're merciless." I say. I can't say Chloe is different than I thought she'd be. Nice, but also a real bitch without any motives sometimes.

"I bet you haven't even shot any of them a single text or call yet."

I sit in silence for a moment. That's true, I haven't talked to any one of them since I've been here, which has been for about a month.

"I just wanted to settle in here first and not come off as such a shy, cliche geek who stares at her phone all the time. I totally will contact them soon."

"I bet you don't use these sad excuses on Mr. Jefferson."

She shifts her position so she's driving with her right hand and resting her head on her left hand, which is propped up on her window ledge. As her right arm raises to grip the top of the steering wheel, her leather jacket's sleeve slightly slides up her arm and reveals what seems to be the bottom part of a tattoo. It's got some red ribbon and green vines. That's all I can see so far. I wonder how far up her arm it goes.

After a long silence, I reach down to pull my camera out of my bag. I retrieve it from my bag, only to realize that all the drama with Nathan and such had caused it to smash to pieces.

"Broken?" I lift it onto my lap to examine it further. "Oh man, are you cereal?"

"Wow, haven't heard that one before." Chloe makes a remark on my speech.

"New people, new experiences," I say. "And my camera has officially taken a shit."

"My step-douche has a boatload of tools," Chloe says. "Maybe you can fix it at my place."

"I need very specific, tiny tools."

"Nerd alert!" She jokes. "My stepdad has a fully stocked garage. And he actually is a tiny tool."

I shift my position to a more relaxed one. I try to keep myself from throwing a fit over my camera. Where the hell are you going to find another analogue camera if you can't fix it? Good going, Max.

Chloe looks at me with a bright, toothless smile. "Welcome to Arcadia Bay, Max."


End file.
